


The Tails on the Demon (Go Swish, Swish, Swish)

by junko



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sajin Komamura is invited to Gin Ichimaru's promotion party.  Things get interesting very quickly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tails on the Demon (Go Swish, Swish, Swish)

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant as a stand alone. I'm not sure if there will be more (though clearly, I've left that possibility open.) I wrote it for two reasons. One, I think Komamura needs more love (in general, but also in specific,) and two, I found myself singing "The Tails on the Demon, Go Swish, Swish, Swish..." to the tune of the "The Wheels on the Bus" the other day and I couldn't get it out of my head until I wrote the story that went with the title. Now you have my earworm. Yes, you're welcome.
> 
> Perhaps obviously, this takes place way before the "Rescue arc," when Gin Ichimaru first takes the captaincy of the Third. I THINK (with the help of Josey) I have all the right players in the right spots at the right time, but feel free to tell me how I'm mangled the timeline.
> 
> Also -- this continues my obsession with the idea that we are meant to read Gin as a fox-demon (kitsune). I think canon (and certainly moments in some of the omake) supports my wild claim. You, however, may not agree. Also, keep in mind that my Gin Ichimaru talks with a deep American South accent. There will be a few "ain't"s, but, in my mind, they're in a soft, Southern drawl.
> 
>  
> 
> #

Sajin Komamura stared at the bucket-helmet on his desk for a moment before returning his attention to the invitation in his hand. The office was dim; windows slid shut, despite the warm, inviting sunshine outside. He kept his office shuttered in case some subordinate should burst in before he had a chance to get covered. He was sure it only added to the rumors swirling around him, but it couldn’t be helped. No one could know the truth.

At any rate, he could see just as well in the dark. 

The words on the stiff, formal parchment read: ‘Your presence is requested for the celebration of the promotion Gin Ichimaru, as we welcome him to the captaincy of the Third Division.” The rest was the usual details about time and place and sundries. Scrawled at the very bottom in Gin’s cramped hand was the addition of, “Really, you should get out more. People will talk.”

Sajin shook his head, and smoothed back his whiskers that had instantly bristled at the implied insult. Ichimaru did himself no favors with little jibes like that. How he’d found enough captains to stand his test was a mystery itself, he was so unanimously disliked in the Gotei. 

Except for Aizen, of course, and Kaname seemed to tolerate him. Of course, Kaname couldn’t see that annoying smirk Gin always sported.

The sound of a book falling off a shelf was followed by a, “Aw, shit! Cripes, it’s dark in here. Captain? Are you there?”

It was Tetsuzaemon Iba, Sajin’s new lieutenant, recently brought up from the Eleventh. Sajin slid the bucket over his head and answered, “Yes. What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

“I was just wondering if we’re going to go. To the party, I mean. I heard it’s turning into quite the do. Everyone’s going to be there.”

Sajin couldn’t stop his surprise: “For Ichimaru?”

“No,” Iba laughed, leaning a square shoulder against the door frame and peering into the darkness. Sajin had no idea how he could see anything through those dark sunglasses he always wore. Iba continued, “For Matsumoto, of course! I guess her and the little weas—I mean, the new captain were childhood friends. She’s been talking up this party like it’s the social event of the season. I suddenly kind of want to go, you know what I mean?”

Underneath his helmet Sajin smiled. Matsumoto did have that effect on most men. “Indeed. Let us at least make an appearance then, shall we?”

 

#

 

Matsumoto, it seemed, really did know how to throw a proper party. Sajin had expected the usual stiff, formal affair, like his own welcoming party, with endless bows and congratulations and captains standing around trying not to look bored while wondering how long they had to stay to meet the barest minimum requirement for politeness. 

Instead, the Third Division’s mess hall had been transformed into a glittering ballroom. Silver streamers hung from every conceivable spot, and strings of small, red lanterns cast a dim light that made everything shimmer and shine. There were even novelty helium-filled balloons from the Human World with the word “Congratulations” printed on them decorating the long table that was filled with every variety of sweet treat.

The beer and the sake flowed freely.

In fact, several large barrels of sake had been tapped, and, when Iba handed Sajin a bowlful, he could smell that it wasn’t the cheap stuff either. A delicate floral scent had Sajin wishing he could taste it without having to expose his face.

Though they had not arrived late, the hall was already filled to brimming. Everyone, in fact, seemed to be in attendance. Over the heads of the crowd, Sajin spotted a rather large contingent from the Eleventh, including their bell-topped captain and the tiny, pink-haired lieutenant. Someone must have told them there was free beer. Sajin made a mental note to be well gone before that lot got drunk enough to start fighting. 

Similarly, Sajin was happy he wouldn’t actually be tempted to drink anything, as the white-face painted Mayuri Kurotsuchi wandered around with a large waiter’s tray full of something lime green and bubbly that he was handing out to unsuspecting partygoers.

Though his captain was nowhere to be seen, Ginjirō Shirogane, the happy-go-lucky lieutenant of the Sixth was thick in the crowd, like a showman, trying to convince people to check out his newest sunglasses designs and place orders for that side business of his. Soi Fon also seemed to have taken a miss on the party, too, and had sent the loud, obnoxious Marechiyo Ōmaeda in her place instead. Ōmaeda occupied one entire section of the food table, as though it were a personal buffet set out just for his pleasure. 

With the exception of the Sixth and the Second, it otherwise was a full complement of captains. Even the head captain was there, sitting in the far corner, leaning on his staff and talking to his ever vigilant lieutenant, Chōjirō Sasakibe. Kyōraku had taken up permanent residence under one of the barrels, while a gaggle of admirers mobbed his partner, Ukitake, nearby. Unohana stood like a silent guardian at one wall, smiling pleasantly at the proceedings. Sajin spotted Kaname Tōsen talking to his lieutenant near the buffet not far from the guest of honor and his constant companion, Sōsuke Aizen. Matsumoto flitted around the room, darting out and returning to Ichimaru, bringing him plates of treats and smiling and cooing at him. 

Ichimaru was very lucky to have a friend like her, Sajin thought. 

Kaname was a fine companion, but he was sometimes hard to fathom. He had a tendency to talk in Zen riddles and, Sajin thought sadly, kept the wounds in his heart closed off and distant from those who could help.

Matsumoto, on the other hand, was outgoing and gregarious and seemed to have a truly open soul. Even if the rumors were true that she was a somewhat lazy and self-indulgent lieutenant, she seemed to Sajin to be a genuinely good person. He could understand why so many men fell under her charms. Not only was she amply endowed with the usual feminine aspects, she had voluptuous orange-gold hair that suited her brassy personality perfectly. Like a vixen, that one.

Sajin could enjoy people watching all night, but he could sense Iba’s restlessness. Iba’s eyes had instantly been drawn to the increasingly boisterous group from his former regiment, and it was clear that was where he’d hoped to spend his evening. Kindly, Sajin put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Come. Let’s make our formal congratulations together and then you can join your friends.”

“Oh, that’d be great, sir. Thank you.”

People tended to part in front of Sajin when he walked. His size and the bucket-helmet that completely obscured any sense of his features intimidated them. He used to feel somewhat embarrassed by this reaction, but Iba had changed that for him. Even now, several months into his commission, Sajin could feel the warmth of pride imbuing Iba’s reiatsu. He clearly enjoyed the frightened reaction, but, then again, Sajin was pretty sure Kenpachi Zaraki elicited a very similar response whenever he moved through a crowd.

Thus, in no time, they stood in front of Ichimaru. He was leaning his head in slightly, as though listening intently to whatever it was that Aizen was murmuring to him. Ichimaru had a bowl of sake wrapped in those long, bony fingers and that perpetual amused look on his thin, narrow face. He grinned like he was enjoying the wickedest joke… or keeping a dirty, little secret.

In the reddish light of the lanterns, his silver hair took on a rusty, bloody cast.

Sajin could smell it on him, of course: the scent of demon magic. It was like the smoke of funerary incense that cloyed in the nostrils, making his nose twitch. It swirled around Ichimaru like a dark cloak, hiding something sinister, though what Sajin couldn’t quite guess.

Iba announced him and made a bow low enough for a newly appointed captain.

“Ah, the noble Komamura,” Ichimaru said. “I flushed you from your den, did I?”

Why that choice of words? What did Ichimaru think he knew? Or was he, like so many others before him, making a stab in the dark in the hopes of hitting home?

This one was far too close, however. Sajin tried not to stiffen noticeably. Since he had no counter, he chose to ignore the poke, and, instead, sketched the bow of an equal to an equal. “Congratulations on your new position, Captain Ichimaru. I’m sure you’ll be an asset to the Gotei.”

Ichimaru returned a somewhat sloppier bow, and had to steady himself on Aizen’s arm on the way back up. At Iba’s arched eyebrow, Ichimaru said, “Oh my, how rude of me! A thousand pardons and all that. I’m a-feared I started a bit early,” he giggled. “I’m a teensy, weensy bit wasted.”

Aizen cleared his throat and made excuses for his friend, “It’s the social pressure. Gin is actually quite shy.”

“I always feel a bit cornered in such a large crowd, like I want to bolt for the woods.” Ichimaru chuckled again and looked at Sajin, “You understand, of course.”

“I can’t say that I do,” Sajin said coolly. That was enough of the animal references. He’d make his excuses and go. He’d opened his mouth to say goodbye, when Ichimaru tucked and arm under Sajin’s and swept him off in the direction of the food table.

“Oh, sure you do,” Ichimaru said, once they were away from Aizen and Iba. “All this noise is ever so hard on sensitive ears. And the stink of humanity can be overpowering, don’t you agree?” He waved his hand in front of his nose dramatically, as if to illustrate his point.

Beneath his helmet, Sajin’s lips curled in a snarl. “I’m not sure what you’re implying.”

Ichimaru’s grin grew wider and more devious, “Of course not. I do hope it’s not too stuffy under that bucket. It’s such a deep, deep shame that you have to hide your light under a barrel. Ain’t you able to wear a mask no more? Or did you never learn the deceptive arts?”

Ah, so, Ichimaru was hiding too. Only he had no need for a physical disguise; he hid behind magic. 

Sajin pulled away from Ichimaru’s grasp. He took in a deep sniff of Ichimaru’s scent. Was there a musky undertone? As soon as he thought he’d detected it, it swirled away again, deep undercover… masked.

Perhaps all this targeted talk was meant to imply exactly what kind of magic: deceptive arts, indeed. A shape-shifter, then.

“Ah, I think I see,” Sajin said. “You should be careful how much alcohol you consume, Captain.”

“Oh, you mean, because of these?” Swishing out from under his crisp, new haori flashed a bundle tails. Fluffy and silver-furred, they were tipped with a flash of bloody red. Ichimaru giggled again as he tucked them back slyly, “Why do you think I had Rangiku keep the lights so low? They popped out an hour ago, and now the little naughty things won’t go back under. Sure gave that Renji Abarai a shock when they appeared. I thought he might have apoplexy and die--though good riddance, I say. That one has a nose as sharp as ours.”

A kitsune! Sajin should have known! So they were related then, at least partially. Ichimaru must have very powerful magic to have kept something like that from him. How many tails had there been? Sajin couldn’t be certain, but there were a lot. As many as nine? But, no, he would have turned golden. Or was that a trick of his name. Silver instead of gold?

Ichimaru was continuing, oblivious to the shocked expression underneath Sajin’s helmet, “That’s why I had to have Sōsuke get rid of the boy. Abarai would’ve sniffed me out in no time. Lucky for me, he’s a right ornery drunk, and as dumb as a bucket of rocks.”

Since Sajin had no idea who they were talking about, he just nodded. It was a good cover at any rate. He was still reeling from the shock, though so much suddenly made sense now: “Ichimaru. Did you give yourself that name?”

Ichimaru reached down and plucked a bit of sashimi off a plate and dropped the thinly sliced meat into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully, and tapped a long-boned finger against his cheek. Yes, Sajin thought, those hands are just like claws, only barely hidden. 

“You think it too much?” Ichimaru asked. “I did want to give the poor lambs a clue.”

“‘Belonging to the first Demon’? Surely, you can’t claim that.”

The tails peeked out again, this time one at a time, like fingers unfurling, as though purposely allowing Sajin to count them. Dear gods. Nine.

“You think not?” Ichimaru grinned again. He dipped his head with his eyes mere slits. Seeing him like that it was a wonder to Sajin how he’d never put two and two together before. Ichimaru put a hand on the armor of Sajin’s forearm, and stepped in close enough to whisper seductively, “But enough about little old me. I pulled you aside because I’ve been dying to know what’s under that helmet of yours. You’re a bit too tall for all that fur I smell, you don’t use magic much…. Hmmm, could it be? You always did strike me as oni-ni-kanabō.”

From anyone else, of course, it would be a compliment, because Sajin would assume the meaning of ‘strong beyond strong.’ Clearly, Ichimaru meant it literally, ‘ogre with an iron club.’

Sajin removed Ichimaru’s hand and stepped back. There would be no discussing his mixed parentage with a tricky demon, cousin or not. Though Ichimaru was a colleague in the Gotei, as well, it was far too dangerous to trust against his nature. “We will not have this conversation here. Or anywhere, for that matter.”

“Because you don’t trust me with your secret, even though I gave you mine? Aw, I’m so very, very hurt,” Ichimaru spread his hand across his chest in a mock expression of distress. “Are you afraid of what others will say if they know, poor kit!? Can I ask you something else, Sajin?—I can call you that, can’t I—?“ before Sajin could reply in the negative, Ichimaru continued, “Do you believe in Fate?”

The question took him by such surprise that, instead of walking away as he intended, Sajin replied, “I do.”

“There you go then,” Ichimaru grinned happily. “Because, you simply must believe you belong here if you have Tenken at your side. I weren’t sure what to expect at Academy. I thought they might see through my ruse, but instead they gave me Shinso and a seat in their army.” Ichimaru leaned a hip in Sajin’s direction, and stepped closer again, “Hmmmm, speaking of all that, I’ve seen that bankai of yours, haven’t I? Are you as rusty-skinned and fine-looking?”

“No,” Sajin said, stepping back again. Ichimaru was dancing him across the floor, with one step in and one step back.

Ichimaru’s eyes almost opened in surprise, “No?”

“No,” Sajin repeated. “Bankai is a reflection of my soul, not my body.”

Ichimaru pouted. “And you won’t tell me what’s under that helmet of yours? Do try to remember I’m fond of fur on a man! Do you have wild horns and tusks?”

“No,” Sajin said. “Good day to you, Captain.”

But Ichimaru caught his sleeve. “You’re a terrible tease, Sajin. But, I’m worse.” Drawing him down so he could purr in the spot he imagined Sajin’s ear to be, Ichimaru said, “You know I shape-shift, and I know you’re lonely. I can change gender, too, did you know? If you’re perhaps a bit more foxy under that bucket….”

“I’m not interested,” Sajin said. Though it was a bit of lie; his body betrayed him as he felt himself slip his sheath at the offer. “This much I will tell you: our kind don’t mix well.”

“Oh, I’d love to fight an oni,” Ichimaru all but rubbed himself against Sajin side.

“That’s not of what I speak. And, I’m not entirely of that race,” Sajin said, surprising himself by revealing even that much. What was it about Ichimaru? Or was Sajin so desperately lonely that he would shame himself so completely for a little creature comfort? Could Ichimaru really turn into a silver-furred vixen? Why did that thought suddenly grip his attention so completely?

Luckily, Matsumoto interrupted them. “Are you flirting with Captain Komamura?” she asked with a bright smile. She slipped her arm under Ichimaru’s and leaned in. “Should I be jealous?”

“Oh, yes, very.” Ichimaru said. 

Sajin was ready to apologize and explain he wasn’t a rival, but she gave Ichimaru a light peck on the cheek, clearly not concerned in the least by the idea. “I thought so," Matsumoto said. "Your tails are swishing, darling.”

She _knew_?

And she still… cared for him? She knew Ichimaru was kitsune and they were still friends? How could this be possible?

As if for his benefit, Ichimaru asked, “How can you still love me when you know my darkest secret?”

Matsumoto looked affronted and surprised for a second before she giggled, “Don’t be silly! I know you’re a good soul.”

“Oh, that, my dear woman, I, most decidedly, am not,” Ichimaru said with his creepy smile. But, then his mask seemed to slip for a moment. His face grew serious as he said, “But, for you, I try, at least, to be decent. As decent as I'm able.”

It was profoundly moving, considering how much of a struggle it must be for Ichimaru, day-to-day. Sajin felt as though he understood Ichimaru a little more now. It was impossible for a nine-tailed fox-demon to entirely play the part of a good man, but he was trying—fighting against his very nature—for _her_.

“That’s what our friends do for us, is it not?” Sajin said, “They bring out our better selves, elevate our souls.”

“Oh stop it now,” Matsumoto fluttered, waving her hand in front of her reddening face, “You two are making me blush.” Squeezing Ichimaru’s arm, she sketched a quick bow to Sajin and made her goodbyes. As she walked away, she blew Ichimaru a kiss, and wagged a teasingly admonishing finger, “Now you two play nice, you here?”

Ichimaru pretended to catch the kiss in his claw-like hands. “Play. Yes, I will _play_ at being nice. I promise.”

She was out of earshot and the crowd would surely have swallowed his words anyway, so she just smiled and nodded, clearly not hearing what he’d said.

Sajin gave Ichimaru a long, measuring look. Then, he bowed his head slightly, as though to ask for forgiveness, which he was in a way: “I mistook you. You're more than most give you credit for.”

“And, you, noble Komamura, are too wise to say any more than that, ain’t you? I’m more, but will I be enough, you still wonder.”

Of course he still did. It was a difficult thing to go against one’s very nature, instinct, and breed. Sajin was lucky. While he did have to deal with an oni’s rage, his other half was zenko. His instinct lunged in the direction of good naturally. Still, he wanted to support Ichimaru in his struggle, “I believe what you say. If you must play at being good, so be it. Sometimes the thing you pretend to be is the thing you become.”

Gin’s grin returned with a vengeance. “Are you human yet?”

“I am,” Sajin said without a moment’s hesitation or doubt. “Tenken has shown me that I am.”

Gin’s smile froze. “I see. My soul must be pure, swift poison.” But, then it grew wide and his eyes narrowed to slits, and he said cheerily “But, that ain’t no surprise to anyone what knows me in the least!”

Aizen beckoned Gin back to his place of honor.

Gin waved as though he planned to be right over. To Sajin, he said with another squeeze on the arm, “Do think over my offer, won’t’ca, dearie? It’d be nice to be with your kin, wouldn’t it?”

Sajin didn’t trust himself to say anything, one way or the other.


End file.
